Shoes

In loving memory of my Grandmother, Norma Jean Pride, written upon her passing on Thanksgiving 2007

The years they swiftly pass us

And all the simple circumstances

Draw us slowly onto paths as yet unknown.

And though we try to stay together

Shifting winds and changing weather

Separate the paths where each of us must go.

Passing thorough the changing seasons

We look ‘round at falling leaves and

Stand amazed at all the time that’s come and gone.

Walking cautiously but heedless,

Seldom pondering the deeds of

Those we love who run a race that’s nearly done.

So we sit in sad reflection,

With the legacy you’ve left and

Look within for strength to take the torch in hand.

To be an oracle of wisdom,

A steady shoulder one may cry on.

One who knows the time to wink and when to stand.

So now with circle never broken,

With your final words now spoken

And the torch you carried passing onward still.

Although we don’t know how to do it

And bitter tears will fall into it,

We slip our feet into the shoes left now to fill.